


OTP 30 Day Challenge

by alexdamien



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/pseuds/alexdamien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Spamano drabbles, for all your Spamano needs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MannyHeatlook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MannyHeatlook/gifts).



**01 - Holding hands**

Romano looked at the way Spain’s hands moved as he cooked. He was saying something about work and how much he was dying for vacations soon, but his voice drowned out against the clattering of pots and spoons. And the firm way he held everything. When he saw the way the light from the setting sun fell on his tanned skin, Romano could almost feel those hands over his skin.

“Roma? Are you alright?” asked Spain, leaning over him.

“O-of course I’m alright, dammit!”

“Really?”

Romano glared, and Spain smiled. He put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. There were very small laugh lines around his eyes. Were they always there? Romano grabbed Spain’s hand and pulled it down. They were rough and hardened by unending years of work, and battle.

“Yes,” said Romano, but he didn’t let go of him, and clasped Spain’s hand with both of his own. “Now don’t move, bastard.”


	2. Chapter 2

**02- Cuddling Somewhere**

It was a small walk to Spain’s house for Romano.

It could also be a jump.

Or he could open a door -any door- in his house, and be at Spain’s already.

He preferred to walk though, so he did. Even if the day was dark, and a sharp cold wind blew against him as he walked.

He stopped to button up his coat and glared at the gray sky. What an awful day for a storm.

"Bastard can’t even greet me with a proper weather," he muttered behind his scarf.

A couple ran for cover, just as Romano felt a couple teardrops fall over his face. He ran, and didn’t bother to knock on the door. He knew it was always open for him.

"That’s some stupid weather, you asshole!" he yelled once inside. He took off his scarf and threw it over the couch. "Where are you?"

No one answered. The silence filled the house and fell over him, making him feel like an unwanted guest.

He looked into the kitchen, and the rooms in the first floor, but there was no one. Still, he knew Spain was there. He could feel him in the air, and he could hear his heartbeat in the sound of the rain outside.

He went down to the basement and saw a light from the back. There were a lot of forgotten things down there. Spain usually threw in there anything he didn’t want to deal with. Romano stepped over a few crates, went around a bookcase, and found Spain asleep next to a lamp and among a mess of old books, and rusted weapons.

"Idiot," he whispered. It was cold down there, and Spain wore only a thin old shirt. Romano knelt down next to him, took off his coat and put it softly over him. Spain awoke with a start.

"Uh? Romano?"

Romano sat down next to him and pulled his coat so it would cover them both. “Yeah, it’s me.”

"Heh, sorry. I fell asleep."

"I can see that," he could also see maps around them, and memories, and a sadness he wouldn’t talk about.

"Are you hungry? I’ll go cook us something."

"No," Romano leaned his head against Spain’s shoulder and held his hand under the coat. "Let’s stay here. For now."

Spain smiled and embraced him completely. “Yes. That would be…nice.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**03- Playing Videogames**

Setting up the system had been hellish. A mess of cables and plugging things into other things. It was all so awful that Romano had started to regret ever accepting America’s not-so-subtle advice to try gaming. To be honest, hehad only accepted because he wanted to see how Italy had been portrayed in this assassins game.

As he finished plugging in everything and turning on the tv, he decided that unless this game included a nice nude of Cesare Borgia, it just wasn’t worth it.

Spain knocked on the door to his apartment once, and then let himself in. romano didn’t even move from his spot on the floor in front of the tv. The bastard had his own key, no need to knock or anything.

“Hey Roma~!”

“What?”

“Oy, aren’t you happy I came to see you?” Spain knelt down next to him and hugged him from behind. Romano meddled with the controls until it seemed like the story was starting. Spain nuzzled the back of his head. He had a bottle of wine in his left hand, and a plate of cold cuts in the other.

“I’m  happy you brought wine. I need it to deal with this stuff.”

 

“So you really are trying out that game you borrowed from America?” asked Spain, letting go of him. He left the plate on the floor next to him and went to open the wine bottle.

“Yeah. Did he tell you?” or had Romano mentioned it? Spain hadn’t been at the meeting where he agreed to try America’s game and console, right? Maybe France had told him? Or maybe Prussia? Those three were so nosey.

Spain made a vague noise of agreement, which meant he was hiding something. Romano decided to ask later, and focused on the game’s tutorial and trying to learn the controls.

“Here you go,” whispered Spain to his ear as he pushed a wine glass against Romano’s lips. “It’s one of my best Riojas, I hope you like it.”

Romano drank deeply. It was very good. So good, it seemed a waste to drink it when they were just going to hang out on his apartment. He would have cooked something nice. “It’s really nice. You should have saved it for something more important.”

“Oh, but every moment with my Roma is important~”

“Why are you so lovey dovey tonight?”

“I’m always like this!”

Something happening on the screen caught Romano’s attention. An escape of some sort, and he tried to make the characters run in the right direction. The hell, this wasn’t Renaissance Italy!

“Is it a fun game?” asked Spain. Romano gritted his teeth.

“I don’t  _know_ , because you keep  _distracting_  me!”

Spain huffed and stood up. “Fine, I’ll leave you to enjoy America’s game.”

“What?” Romano felt his blood run cold. Why was Spain angry? He hadn’t even been too rude or demanding this time! Could it be that this was the last straw? That he was finally fed up with him? He knew it. He knew it. He knew that one day Spain would realize that he didn’t really love him and leave forever. The control slipped from his fingers.

“I’m sure America does far more interesting things than I do. I’ll come back when you’re done with whatever ha gave you,” huffed Spain. He put his coat back on. He was angrier than he had been in  _years_. But Romano found a smile was suddenly pulling at his lips. He could almost laugh.

_Spain was jealous._

“What’s so funny?” asked Spain, glaring at him.

“You. You’re so cute, and you love me.”

“Uh?”

Spain looked confused, then he blushed, and then his eyes seemed to brighten with an inner light, and he tackled Romano on the floor.

“Aaaahh! My Roma called me cute! This is the best day! I love you Roma! I love you!”

Romano tried to stop smiling, but it was really the best when he saw the depth of Spain’s feelings for him. When he saw that every time Spain said I love you he was telling the truth and all the things the voices in his head told him were only lies.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**04- On A Date**

Spain wanted to go on a date. Which was ridiculous because they had never dated anyway, so why start now?

Romano wondered about it as he tried to choose an outfit. Something nice but comfortable. What would Spain wear? It wasn’t like the bastard had a lot of nice clothes, to be honest. He would probably just wear a shirt and some nice jeans, so Romano should probably do the same. He didn’t want to end up overdressed and have to go through dinner while everyone around gossiped about how out of place he looked. And where were they goin to go? Spain hadn’t even mentioned dinner in the first place. If it was Romano, he would have mentioned reservations at a nice place, so his date would know what the hell they were supposed to wear!

He tried on some black pants and a white shirt. Too much.

Some old jeans and an off white shirt. Too casual.

He settled for some dark jeans and a simple beige shirt. Some nice black shoes and he was ready for anything Spain could have in mind.

And just in time, in fact, because the doorbell rang just then. He ran to open the door.

"About time you arrived, dammit!" He complained. Then he took a good look at Spain, and blinked.

He was dressed for a fine dinner in a perfectly fitted charcoal suit with a pristine white shirt. The knot on his dark gray tie was so perfect, even Romano with all his italian fashion style had never accomplished anything like that.

"Ah, Romano mi amor, you look as beautiful as ever," he said, presenting a huge bouquet of red roses to him.

Romano was speechless for a moment. Where had he gotten such a beautiful suit? Had he done something to his hair? Why was he bringing him roses???

"I…I…," stammered Romano, feeling his face heating. "I’m not ready!" He yelled, and slammed the door in Spain’s face.

"W-whaaat? Roma-!"

"You should have told me we were going some place nice you idiot! Now I’m not ready!"

Romano felt stupid. Clearly Spain had put a lot of thought into this, and now he would look like some highschool boy next to him.

"That’s fine Roma, but uh, could I wait inside?"

Romano sighed. “Fine,” he said and let him in. “But tell me where we’re going alright? If I end up looking like an idiot, you’ll pay for it!”

Spain gave him a simple minded smile while Romano took the roses from him to put them in a vase.

"Well~, I didn’t know where to take you, so I asked France."

"Ugh."

"And he said that for someone really important you had to be spectacular. He told me of a very nice restaurant in Rome that you would like. I was going to take you to the pizza place by the beach at first," he laughed and pulled at the knot of his tie to loosen it a little. The suit fitted him like a glove, outlining his slim but muscular figure. And yet, he still looked out of place and awkward in it. "That would have been embarrassing right? So France helped me get a suit and set up the perfect date for my perfect Roma," he hugged Romano from behind rubbing his face against his hair like some kind of huge happy dog.

Romano snorted out a laugh at the thought.

"What? Are you laughing at me?"

"Of course I’m laughing at you, idiot," said Romano, turning around so that he was face to face with the huge, happy, dog-like man that was Spain. He placed a quick peck on the tip of his nose. "Let’s go for pizza."

"Uh? But-"

"Pizza will be perfect."


	5. Chapter 5

**05- Kissing**

Romano sat at the couch with Spain lying over it, with his head on Romano’s lap. It was a slow night, and Romano was too bored and tired to even complain about it. Instead, he tangled his fingers on the dark lazy curls of Spain’s hair.

“We should do something. I’m bored,” said Romano, and Spain made a vague noise of agreement, but said nothing. The bastard didn’t even open his eyes. Outside a heavy rain kept falling. “What do you want to do?” asked Romano, pulling at his hair.

Spain looked up at him and smiled. “Kiss”

Romano felt his face heating. “W-what?! I meant something fun, you idiot!”

“Kissing is fun,” said Spain, embracing Romano’s stomach and nuzzling at his bellybutton.

Romano tried to not laugh and pushed Spain away. “Stop that!”

But Spain only raised his arms to run his fingers at Romano’s sides, making him laugh. Romano hit him softly. “Idiot! Stop!”

Spain slipped his hands under Romano’s shirt to tickle him until he was begging him to stop. Spain gave soft laugh and kissed his nose. Then his cheeks and the small tears in his eyes. He stopped to push himself up so that he sat straddling Romano, kissed his temple, and then pressed their foreheads together.

“Isn’t this fun?” he asked. Romano gave him a small headbutt.

“Fool,” he said, and Spain laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

**06- Wearing Each Other's Clothes**

Romano emerged from under the covers when he smelled bacon. He considered the cons and pros of getting out of bed. Bacon now or…bacon later? He groaned and got out of the bed. Spain might bring him breakfast to bed, but he was hungry  _now_.

He looked around and couldn’t find his clothes anywhere. Spain had probably taken everything to do laundry. That displayed far too much diligence for him at such an early hour of the morning. Romano looked at the clock and saw it was 11:14. Well…

He pulled out some of Spain’s boxers and one of his old shirts. He slipped it over his head and inhaled the scent. Everything in his room smelled of that old earthy scent that always signaled home to Romano, and he loved to smell Spain’s clothes.

Not that he would ever tell him, of course. The very idea of doing so made him panic.

When he went down to the kitchen he found Spain humming some old tune while he cooked breakfast. He was wearing and old shirt of Romano’s that he had bought off the internet and ended up being too big for him. It had ‘Mezzogiorno’ written in the back with a tiny Italian flag on the front.

“Hey bastard, that’s mine,” complained Romano. He sneaked around Spain and stole a piece of bacon from a plate. Spain just laughed and kissed him.

“And everything you’re wearing is mine, so I guess this makes us even.”

Romano pouted and hit him softly on the side. “Idiot. Where did you get that?”

“Last time I was at your house. It seemed too big for you.”

“It is. I was going to send it back.”

“Whoops. Can’t do it now, can you?” he set down a plate with scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes, and all the bacon he had prepared.

“No, don’t bribe me. You’re not keeping my shirt.”

“You’re eating the bribe.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“If I let you keep what you’re wearing I can keep this?” he turned around and pointed to the word Mezzogiorno on the back. “It’s so cute!”

“I don’t care about your stinky clothes. But fine, whatever, you can keep it.”

Spain kissed a trail down Romano’s cheek into his neck. “I love it when I can smell my scent on you, though,” he whispered against Romano’s skin.


	7. Chapter 7

**07- Cosplaying**

“This is the last time we let Japan organize the Halloween party,” muttered Romano, pulling down his shorts. He hadn’t wore shorts in the last couple hundred years, and it had been a horrible idea to do so again. “And it’s the last time I let you choose our costumes. I look like jailbait. What cartoon are we dressed up as again?” he pointed at his costume.

“Kuroshitsuji! And it’s an anime fratello!” said Italy, smiling and not noticing how crooked his blonde wig was.

 

“Whatever. I hate you so much right now. And potato bastard too!” he pointed at the tall figure in a butler suit behind him. Germany looked away to try and hide his blush. He knew he looked ridiculous in that suit, but had been unable to refuse Italy. Especially since his brother had looked so happy to have him wear red contacts.

“Roma! There you are!” cried Spain, running up at him. He was wearing lose beige pants and an old white t-shirt. “Oh you look A-DO-RA-BLE! Let me take a photo, please!” he took out his phone, but Romano snatched it from him.

“Of course not! I feel ridiculous enough dressed up like this! And where’s your costume? You don’t get to wear normal clothes if I don’t!”

Spain laughed. “I’m wearing my cosplay! Just wait, as soon as-“

“Oy, you look so cute my dears!” cried France, walking up to them. Behind him came Prussia with a camera and started taking photos of his brother and Italy. He had died his hair a bright cherry red

“But you’re all wearing normal clothes! What is this?” yelled Romano, pointing at their tshirts and loose pants.

France threw his hair back in a seductive motion. “Non non, my darling. Just look!” he snapped his fingers, and Prussia and Spain stepped to either side of him. “We’re Free!”

At the same time the three of them took off their t-shirts, then grabbed their pants and janked them off, revealing bathing suits underneath.

Italy took Prussia’s camera, and started taking photos desperately.

Romano didn’t stop him, but made a point of stealing the camera later in the night, when they were all drunk and dancing to the opening of Free! For the twelfth time.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**08- Shopping**

Spain had written a grocery list. If it could even be called such. Romano took a single look at it and saw a bunch of ugly drawn tomatoes and hearts. He muttered a curse and followed Spain into the store.

"You wrote serrano ham three times," he complained.

"We need a lot of serrano ham," said Spain, smiling in his usual way that made him look like an idiot and made Romano’s heart take a wild leap, at the same time.

"Idiot! We need other stuff, like pasta, and cheese not just ham and-" he read the list again. "Underwear?"

 "They sell underwear at wallmart!"

"I hate you and your disgusting choice in clothes."

"Is that why you keep tearing my clothes off when we have se-"  
Romano hit him on the face with the grocery list.

"Shut up!"

A middle aged couple stared at them when they walked by, which only fueled Romano’s anger.

“You go get the pasta while I go get other things we need that you didn’t bother to write, you idiot.”

Spain giggled and gave Romano a quick peck on the cheek, then ran down the aisle while pushing the trolley before Romano could hit him.

“You bastard!” called Romano, blushing. An employee walked up to him.

“Sir, please do mind your language. There are children here,” he told Romano, who tsk-ed and muttered a sorry before walking away. This always happened when he and Spain came to the store. He much preferred to just go to the open market like always. If they got kicked out like last time, Spain was gonna get it!

He walked to the next aisle and looked up and down, looking for ground pepper and dry basil. He spotted some paprika. Spain had been putting the stuff in everything lately, claiming that everything tasted better with it; the idiot. Romano took a jar too. Spain would probably make that dumb sad puppy face he did if they ran out of it. In fact, he could almost hear him.

Romano listened more carefully. Yes, there it was, Spain’s voice mumbling something in the next aisle. What the hell was he saying?

“Wahhh, Romaaa, what is this?” he was saying in a very low voice.

“Sir?” said an employee near where he could hear Spain. “If you hug them like that, you have to pay for them.”

“Aaahh, I’ll pay for them. I’ll buy them all, I love them. Romano, Romano~!” said Spain, not raising his voice, as if he was telling a joke to the woman who had warned him.

“Sir, you can’t do that before you pay for them,” the employee’s tone wavered between amusement and panic.

“Ah~, but I can’t let Roma know~, but I want them all, what should I do? Can you help me miss? I want all of these. Can you help me keep a secret?”

That was more than Romano could take, and he ran to the other aisle. “What the hell are you doing you idiot?!” he yelled. Spain stood holding two jars of pasta sauce against his face.

“R-Roma! I thought you were…somewhere…else…,” he looked surprised for half a second, and then his expression darkened. “Roma, you…you’ve been cheating on me.”

“What?!”

Spain held out one of the sauce jars at him. “Who is Parmesan? Who?! Tell me Romano!”

Romano blinked, and read the label on the jar.

_Smooth & Rich. Parmesan and Romano pasta sauce._

It took Romano a moment to process the absurdity of the situation. But when he did. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT SPAIN THAT’S A CHEESE AND YOU FUCKING KNOW  IT!”

Spain gasped dramatically and recoiled with an expression of horror. “Romano…,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You. You said God’s name in vain.”

Romano growled, and threw a sauce jar at him. Spain dodged it, but he couldn’t dodge the second one, and the third one hit him straight in the face.

In the end, they paid for ten jars, and Romano never again allowed premade pasta sauce in their house.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**09- Hanging Out With Friends**

Romano wasn’t stalking. He definitely wasn’t, no matter what his brother said.

“I’m not stalking him,” said Romano, looking through a potted plant at their table.

“I didn’t say anything!” whined his brother next to him.

“I can feel you judging me.”

“Fratello!”

“You know I can feel it,” said Romano, looking through the leaves at the bar, careful to keep himself hidden, but also trying to get a good view of the gorgeous redhead who had been slowly getting closer to Spain while the idiot chatted with Prussia, completely oblivious. “It feels like a background feeling of distaste. Like how I can feel low quality pasta.”

“Fratello!”

“Shut up! You’re supposed to be helping me here,” said Romano, still glaring intensely at the bar. With his other hand he waved at his brother to shut up. Someone held his hand. Someone with long slender and soft fingers that were definitely his brother’s.

“Oh, mon cher. You are far more sensitive than I expected,” said France, and kissed his hand.

Romano slapped him and screeched.

A few minutes later, after apologizing to the staff of the restaurant for the scandal, Romano sat at the bar with Spain. At the other end of the bar, a group of beautiful women cooed around France, who held a bag of ice against his face.

“I sent him to get you guys when I noticed you both come in,” said Spain. To their left, Italy chatted with Prussia and a flustered Germany, who had hurried to the restaurant after several desperate messages from Italy.

“Then why didn’t you come get us yourself bastard?”

“Well, I asked you earlier if you wanted to come and you refused. I thought France might be more convincing,” he smiled at Romano, who glared at him.

“I didn’t want to come just to be a third wheel.”

“But we would have been four! You would have completed the car!”

Romano punched him lightly on the arm. “You know what I mean,” he said and took a sip of his drink. Spain nodded lightly with a slight half smile, in that way that said he didn’t want to say anything.

They sat together in silence for a couple moments, while Romano thought up something slightly rude to say that would break the moment. He wished he hadn’t said anything in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” said Spain suddenly. When Romano looked at him, he looked so much older. In the way he looked at him with weary eyes. “It’s a hard habit to break. This going out, just the three of us.”

Romano felt a pressure at his throat. If Spain dared to say that these stupid outings between the three of them made Romano jealous, he might as well ask for an ice bag for himself too, because Romano wasn’t going to tolerate it. He wasn’t going to accept it. He couldn’t. He didn’t dare to face the cold dread that filled his chest when he thought that Spain might find someone out there, one of those nights. That he could ever stumble drunkenly into the arms of someone else.

“It keeps us together,” continued Spain, looking down at his glass. “After everything we…,heh. Well, just… After everything that’s happened.”

Romano gritted his teeth. He wanted to say something, to yell. To demand that Spain chain his demons again, because Romano couldn’t bear to see the way they still pained him; and to know that he couldn’t do anything to sooth that pain. That he could never repay the peace that Spain had brought him.

Instead, he touched his hand. Held him.

A futile gesture, he knew. But it was all he had to give. And he would give it all to him.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**10- With Animal Ears**

Romano hated two things: That potato bastard, and being woken from a good dream.

So when Germany called him at an ungodly hour of the night, waking him up from a pizza filled dream, he was ready to murder someone.

“Whatever it is, I don’t care potato bastard,” he growled, half asleep.

 “Ehem, I’m sorry to bother but-,” there was the sound of something crashing nearby, and loud music in the background. “I really can’t handle them all by myself anymore and the neighbors are complaining. I mean, well, I  _could_ handle them myself but it might get a bit rough and I’d rather not,” there was some shuffling sounds, and Romano could hear France and Prussia singing some sort of Turkish song in the background. Then there was the unmistakable voice of Spain singing the song in nothing but purrs and mews. Prussia started to chirp and France laughed like crazy.

Romano growled. “Just this once, potato bastard.”

Germany sighed. “Thank you.”

When Romano got there, he found that Germany had managed to tie up his brother in a corner (whose head was covered in yellow feathers, for some reason that Romano definitely didn’t want to know), and had wrapped a naked France in a blanket.

“Ah, Romano. I’m glad you’re here already.”

“I came as fast as I could! Don’t nag at me bastard!”

“I wasn’t nagging!”

France took the chance to slip away from Germany and throw off his blanket. “Free at last! Nyaaah!” he said, and ran away. He had cat ears on his head, and a cat tail taped to his butt.

“Argh! I’ll go get him,” said Germany. “Spain fled to the basement, please take him home.”

Romano grunted, and went down to the basement. “Hey, idiot, it’s time to go home! Come out already!”

“Nyaaa! Roma~,” called Spain from somewhere in the basement. “You came to the party?”

“Stupid Germany called me. Where the hell are you?”

“Ah~ You came because Germany asked you to?” the light in the basement flickered. Romano still couldn’t find Spain. It seemed like his voice was coming from everywhere are the same time.

“He called me to come get your drunk ass!”

“So you came to get my ass? But you can always have it!”

Romano felt his face heating. The light flickered, and he felt someone pinching his ass. He screeched, but when he turned there was no one.

“S-stop that!”

“Meeewwww!”

“Stop pretending you’re a cat!”

“Purrr!”

The light flickered again, and Spain crashed into a support beam, then fell over. Romano gave him a look of disdain.

“And here I was wondering if you really were drunk,” he said, crouching next to him. He had dog ears on his head and a dog tail taped to his butt. For some reason he was still wearing his socks though. “You’re not even a goddamn cat, you idiot.”

“Uh? Oh right! I forgot! I’m a dog!” he smiled and barked. Romano hit him on the head.

“Let’s go home, you dumb drunk. And put on some pants.”

“Nuuu! I got a costume for Roma too!” he showed Romano a tail and dog ears.

“Where the hell did you have those?!”

“In my socks.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yeah I did.”

“GET UP ALREADY!”

Spain shivered, and gave him the most awfully sad puppy dog face Romano had ever seen. “B-but I wanted to dress along with Rooomaaa!”

Romano’s heart beat painfully in his heart. “Stop! Stop! Enough! I’ll wear the goddamn ears alright?”

They walked home dressed up as dogs after that, but when Spain started barking Poker Face, Romano had to tape his mouth shut.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**11- Wearing Kigurumis**

Romano was so stunned by the proposal, he didn’t even yell or get angry. He was too shocked for that.

“You want me to wear THAT?” he finally asked, pointing at the bull costume Spain held in his hands.

“Yes!”

“No.”

“But-“

“No.”

Romano thought the topic was over with after that. He had never been more wrong.

The next day, he found the costume in his bed with a note that said  _“Please Please Please My Precious Roma”_. He threw the costume to the trash along with the note.

The day after that, he opened the door to his room to find Spain draped across his bed wearing only the costume.

“You would look even better, Roma,” said Spain. Romano started spritzing him with water until he left.

The next few days passed by in calm, and Romano hoped Spain had given up on his ridiculous request. They saw each other for dinner, and Spain didn’t even touch the topic. That put him in such a good mood, he decided to make some lasagna and bring it to Spain’s apartment so they could watch a movie together.

He rang the doorbell and Spain called “A moment please!”

Romano made a face after a full minute passed. The plate in his hands was heavy, and he had no patience for being left waiting at the door.

Finally, Spain opened the door. “Oh, hi Roma!” he said. Romano blinked. Spain was wearing a red suit of lights with golden details.

It was clearly a party costume replica, but not because of any lack of details (the golden embroidery was a marvel by itself) but because he was only wearing the pants and the jacket, leaving in clear view his pectorals and so much tanned skin that Romano felt lightheaded.

"Wha-.. Uh…," mumbled Romano.

"Oh, hi Roma! Sorry, getting into these things is always a hassle," he said, motioning for Romano to get inside. "And I’m already late for the party, aahhh."

"What’s up with that thing?" Finally asked Romano, pointing at the costume.

"You already forgot about it? France’s party. The one where I wanted you to be a bull!" Said Spain. He went around the apartment, picking a sword here and a cape there. Romano could only see the way the thighs of the suit outlined his firm ass perfectly, and when Spain turned around to smile at him, Romano’s eyes went down, lower, to see the way those thighs left nothing to the imagination about Spain’s girth.

“And the party’s theme is what? Strippers?” said Romano, suddenly too aware that he wasn’t going to said party. Party in which Spain was going to pretend to be a stripper in front of however many people were there. His blood pressure rose.

“Yup.”

“Eehh?”

“Cultural strippers! France’s going as a sexy musketeer, and Prussia as a military stripper, and-“

“Are you fucking serious?! And you wanted me to wear that goddamn full bodysuit that made me look like the fattest bull in history?!”

“Uh…yeah, obviously.”

“Why?!”

Spain blinked, then smiled. “Well, because I couldn’t allow for anyone to see my Roma dressed up like a sexy stripper!”

Romano pointed at his costume. “But you can parade in front of everyone like that?!”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s like my other torero suits. I took off the shirt and underwear because France said he wouldn’t let me in otherwise. Said it wasn’t fair to everyone else.”

“Well this isn’t fair for me! If you’re going to be a stripper then at least be a stripper only for me!”

Spain smirked. “But Roma, you know I’m always glad to strip for you.”

Romano ended up wearing the stupid costume, but it wasn’t for long, and in the end, he decided it was worth it.


	12. Chapter 12

**12- Making Out- EXCEPT NOT REALLY BECAUSE IT’S JUST A LOT OF CONFUSION AND SEXY NOT REALLY SEXY FRUSTRATION AND MORE CONFUSION AND THEN NOTHING REALLY BUT IT’S KIND OF FUNNY REALLY I PROMISE OK SORT OF FUNNY BUT I REALLY TRIED**

Romano picked up the phone “Yes? What?”

“Ah, Romano, guten Tag.”

He hung up. Spain came out of the kitchen.

“Who was it?”

“No one.”

The phone rang again and Romano threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’m going to the store,” he said, and got out. Spain grinned and picked up the phone.

 

“Hi Germany!”

“Spain?”

“I guessed it must be you, since Romano left so suddenly.”

Germany sighed. “Well, that’s better in a way.”

“Uh?”

“I-I had something to ask you about… It’s about Romano. Well, it’s about Italy but I’m guessing it might apply to Romano as well so maybe you would know.”

“Ah~, it’s not like you to avoid a subject like this, Germany,” said Spain, with a faked smile. Anything that concerned Romano was serious business for him, and anything that worried Germany must be important. He took off his apron and laid down on the couch.

“I’m not avoiding the subject! I mean- Well, it’s a bit…,” he cleared his throat. “Have you ever pulled the curl in Romano’s hair?”

“Uh?”

“H-have you?”

Spain bit his lower lip and thought of all the times he had touched Romano’s hair. He had touched his curl once, a few hundred years ago, but after Romano’s reaction turned violent, he had never done it again. In fact, he hadn’t even thought about it at all.

“Hmmm, no, I don’t think I have.”

“Really?”

“You’ve touched Italy’s curl.”

“I…-“

“Heh, heh. It wasn’t a question Germany. I can tell. How did he react?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s a bit…”

“Oh, then I’ll just ask Romano and get back to you later,” said Spain with a mischievous smile.

“No! Don’t tell him I’ve done that! I’ll just say that it seems that’s a very sensitive spot for Italy, and I wondered if you happened to know more about that.”

Spain rolled to face the back of the couch and started picking at the tapestry. “Mhm. I see. Well, Italy’s a really open guy in that respect. You could easily ask him.”

“I could not!”

“Aww, how cute, are you embarrassed? I could ask him myself.”

“I don’t think I’d like that option either.”

Spain laughed under his breath. Seeing those two going around each other tentatively, pushing this and that boundary to see if they could cross over to lover’s territory was so cute.

“Ah, I want to go visit!”

“I said I didn’t want you to ask him directly!”

“But I want to see Italy too!”

Last time he and Romano had visited, the looks of adoration that Italy gave Germany had made his night. He cheered for them even more after that. France kept nudging him and grinning like an idiot every time a slight blush betrayed Germany’s stoic face.

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, don’t! I miss you guys. If I promise not to say anything, can we come over? We’ll bring a cake! We’ll bring that strawberry one that Italy liked so much last time!” he grinned against the tapestry. Oh, the blooming of love, he wouldn’t say anything about this to Italy, but he was definitely calling France to gossip right away.

Germany took a deep breath. “Fine. You can come next weekend. Is that alright?”

“That’s great!”

“And don’t bother with the cake. I got the recipe for it already. I’ll bake it myself for him.”

Was that a hint of possessiveness in Germany’s voice that Spain heard? Oh, France was going to love hearing about this!

“Sure, sure. See you guys next weekend!”

“Yes, Auf Wiedersehen.”

Spain jumped up from the couch. “Yay! Yay!”

“Stop making so much noise idiot,” said Romano from the kitchen.

“Uh? Roma? I thought you’d gone to the store.”

Romano growled a  _whatever_  and poured himself a glass of wine. Spain couldn’t take his eyes off the small curl in his hair.

“So you’re going to visit my brother at Germany’s house?” said Romano walking to the window of the kitchen. Spain could barely keep himself from grinning.

“Yup. I thought we could bring a cake, but Germany’s baking one, so we could just pick a wine bottle to bring them.”

“Hmp. I heard that,” said Romano, glaring to the world outside the window. Spain bit his lower lip. The way the afternoon sun bathed his face added a soft melancholic feeling to his expression. “You still remember how much my brother liked that cake, uh?”

Spain touched his shoulders. Softly. His fingers ghosting along a trail up the back of his head, tangling in his hair.

“Heh, would you believe that Germany got the recipe for it? He says he’s making it, haha! Those two are so cute,” he let his forehead rest against the back of Romano’s hair and inhaled his scent. With his right arm he pulled Romano up against him. Then, his free hand got a hold of Romano’s curl and tugged on it slightly.

“Wow, yes, my brother’s so cute. Do tell me something I don’t know,” said Romano. Spain frowned against Romano’s hair. Nothing happened. He tugged a bit more and rubbed the strand of hair. “And let go of me already. God, you’re so clingy!”

“I…are you alright Roma?” Spain trailed his fingers along the strands, from the base to the tip. Romano shivered and tried to push him away.

“Yes, I’m perfect! I just love to hear you talk about my brother!”

“Whaaat?!” Spain’s fingers pulled on his hair to get Romano to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

Romano’s face was red, and he started to pant slightly. Spain quickly went back through their conversation. “I…I…I’m not visiting your brother.  _We_ are visiting him and Germany. And of course I remember he loved that cake.  _He yelled it. Several times_. And then asked Germany to bake it for him! You were eavesdropping and just got jealous over nothing!”

“I’m not jealous! I’m just tired of you gushing over my brother all the time!”

“I’m not!”

“Then what were you talking about just now?”

Spain opened his mouth to say something, when he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk about that.

“Uh…that…”

“I knew it!”

“No! Roma!” Spain started to panic. “Alright! Sorry, sorry. I’ll tell you,” he said, and held his hands, looking him straight in the eyes. “But you have to promise me that you won’t get angry at this. And that you won’t let your temper get the best of you.”

“Goddammit Spain! Spit it out already!”

Spain took a deep breath before talking. “We were talking about your hair.”

“What?!”

“Specifically this curl here,” he said, tugging at Romano’s curl. The Italian tensed immediately. “Germany said Italy’s curl was very sensitive and he wanted to know if yours were sensitive too, like a family thing you know?” Spain laughed, twirling the curl in his finger. “I was hoping it would be like an erotic thing and was hoping to catch you by surprise, but-“

Romano grabbed his wrist in an iron grip that forced Spain to let go of him.

“It is.”

“What?! But you didn’t-!”

Romano hit him in the stomach, knocking all the air of Spain, who doubled over and fell on the kitchen floor.

“You fucking idiotic bastard! I was so angry and trying so hard to not react! I’m so hard it’s fucking painful! And all the while I was so fucking worried that all you wanted was to be with my brother and you- YOU WERE TRYING TO SEDUCE ME ALL THE WHILE DO YOU REALIZE HOW STUPID THIS ALL IS DAMMIT?!”

Spain blinked, and then his eyes travelled down to Romano’s trousers, where he saw the bulge.

“Oh.”

“Yes you idiot! It’s a family thing! And it’s a point of arousal and we’re gonna have sex now!”

“Oh.”

“And then I’m gonna kill potato bastard for touching my brother!”

Spain blinked. Well, they couldn’t have, could they? He was gonna have to tire him out. Completely.

“How about you ravish me right now and we’ll see to anything else after we’re done?” he said, and took off his shirt.

Romano wasted no more time.


	13. Chapter 13

**13- ~~Eating Ice Cream~~. Riding a Bike and Buying All of the Gelato**

Romano walked down the street, briefcase in hand, when he heard a commotion behind him. He turned to see Spain riding a bike at him with the stupidest grin in his stupid face.

“Roma! Roma! Let’s go get ice cream. Get in!” he said, stopping next to him. Romano blinked and looked at the pathetically old bike he had, then up at his old jeans, and higher up at a small tear on the shoulder of his shirt.

“Get in? Do you seriously want me to climb on that ancient thing?” he said. Spain nodded happily. Romano narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m wearing Armani. I’m not-”

Spain leaned over his bike and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Let’s go! There’s a new gelato place just a couple of blocks away!”

Romano sighed, and climbed on the rear axles. “You dumbass,” he said, and Spain started pedaling.

The people stared at them as they went down the street, a chic young Italian riding on the old bike of some dirty Spanish farmer. He saw they faces passing by, surprised, annoyed, judgmental.

“Here we are!” said Spain, slowing down. Romano climbed off. A middle aged tourist couple stared at them. Spain didn’t even notice them as he parked his bike. If he listened carefully, he could hear their voices against the stones of his street. Of his land.  _Look at that. The worst influence. His parents must be so worried if he hangs out with-_

“Whoo, Prussia helped me fix it up and I just had to take it for a ride. Gelato~, gelato~” said Spain, passing a hand through his messy hair, and Romano was hit with the overwhelming desire to show him off. To parade him to the world.  _Look at him. Out of everyone else on earth, mortal or immortal; he chose me._

Romano grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up to him. “I want all of it.”

“Uh?”

“Get me all of the gelato in this store. We’re having a gelato party. Call everyone.”

“O-ok… But everyone means…”

“Everyone! Even potato bastard! Both of the potato bastards!”

“Uhm…,” Spain seemed like he wanted to argue some more, so Romano pulled him into a deep kiss, and slipped a hand under his shirt. There was a bad influence in this relationship, but it was most definitely not Spain.


	14. Chapter 14

**14- Genderswapped**

The first thing Spain did was grope himself. Of course. Romano slapped his hands away.

“Stop that!” he said, and grabbed his (her?) throat. “Is that my voice.”

“It is! How cute! Ah~ then can I touch yours?”

“No way!”

Romano shifted away from Spain. Up in the sky they could hear the fading laughter of England as he flew away.

“Why did I have to get caught up in this mess?” wondered Romano, then directed her fury at Spain. “This is your fault!” she yelled, and pulled at her long curly hair. “Why did you have to go and pick a fight with him!?”

“But he started!” said Spain, and was about to say something else, when she realized that from that angle she had a very good view of Romano’s cleavage. She was suddenly very glad that Romano had chosen a tight fitting shirt that morning.

“Stop staring at me!”

“I can’t! You’re too gorgeous!

Romano pushed her away. “Then go after any other girl, if that’s what you want!”

Spain stared at her angry face, and felt herself falling in love with Romano yet again, as he did every morning when he saw him wake up and every night when he fell asleep next to him.

“I want Roma!” she said, and pulled Romano against her. “I want Roma as a man and as a woman. And if you were a cat, I’d turn myself into a cat to love you!”


	15. Chapter 15

**15- In a Different Clothing Style**

After getting kicked from the world cup, Romano decided to spend a week eating pizza, getting drunk and wearing sweatpants.

True to his word, he laid on the couch with a pizza box next to him and watching the entirety of [ _Incantesimo_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incantesimo). He was going to get through all ten seasons of it, or die trying. And considering he wasn’t going to be dying any time soon, that left 1150 episodes to watch.

“Roma! Roma! Come out!” called Spain, knocking on the door. He glared vaguely in the direction of the door. Nope, he wasn’t moving. Not this time pal. There was too much pizza for him to care.

Spain kicked open the door.

 

“Why the fuck did I give you a goddamn key?!” yelled Romano, but didn’t take his eyes off the tv.

“Sorry, I lost it. Come on Roma, I- what are you  _wearing?!”_ asked Spain, leaning over the couch to look down at him. Romano was about to reply something rude when he noticed the black blazer, the perfect tie, and the shining white shirt. Spain was dressed like a GQ cover model.

“Uh, I… Wait, no. What are YOU wearing? Why the fancy outfit? Did you raid France’s closet again?”

Spain pouted. “I just bought this. I went shopping. But I did borrow France’s car. Come on, I’ve got reservations for [Corral de la Moreria](http://www.corraldelamoreria.com/).”

“Uh?” Romano blinked, considered everything, and came to the most obvious conclusion. “You’re depressed, aren’t you?”

“What?!”

“Look, it’s ok. Nothing wrong with getting kicked out of the world cup. Well yeah, it was bad but-“

Spain growled and looked away. “I’m taking France then.”

Romano scoffed out a laugh. “Fine, fine, I’ll go change,” he said, and got up from the couch. To be honest, he would much rather whine about the world cup with Spain at a nice restaurant, than alone in his house watching soap operas.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**16- During Their Morning Ritual**

Spain was saying something out in the garden. He usually talked to himself, but this time it was too much for Romano, so he got out of bed and walked to the window.

“Hey jerk, there are people trying to sleep here,” he yelled at Spain, who was crouched in a corner of the garden.

“S-sorry Roma! Go back to sleep, I’ll bring you breakfast to bed later!”

Romano closed the window and wiped his eyes. What the hell was Spain doing in the garden so early in the morning? He opened the window again, but Spain was already gone. Romano looked at the bed and decided he just wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep now. What he needed was coffee. A lot of coffee.

 He got some slippers and walked downstairs. He could hear Spain muttering something.

“What’s all that talking?” he asked, and Spain turned away from him.

“Nothing! Hold on, I have to…do laundry.”

“Now?” asked Romano, but Spain had already walked to the laundry room connected to the kitchen.

“Yes!”

Romano followed him and saw him throwing a bunch of clothes into the drier and close it. Clothes that he was fairly sure were dirty.

“Spain what the fuck are you doing?”

“Laundry!”

Romano hadn’t slept enough to put up with his nonsense, so he walked up to him and grabbed him by the shirt.

“Spain. Tell me what the fuck you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything!”

Romano glared at him, but Spain avoided looking him in the eyes.

“You idiot, you’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

Romano kissed him, softly, and when he felt his body relax, he bit his lower lip.

“You idiot, remember that you can’t lie to me. Well, you can’t lie to anyone, but especially me.”

Spain whined and rubbed his lips. “But Roma~”

“Roma nothing, what is it this time?”

Spain looked down to the floor and shifted his shoes. Romano crossed his arms, showing that he was definitely waiting for a response.

“Fine,” said Spain, and opened the drier. He rummaged around the clothes, and pulled out a tiny black puppy with pointy ears and the stupidest face Romano had ever seen. “He’s so cute, I found him in the garden. Can we keep him? Please Roma!”

“I-“

“Please Roma!”

“Spain he’s probably lost.”

“He’s not!”

“But-“

“PLEASE ROMA!”

Romano threw his hands up, exasperated.

“Fine! Fine! Keep the damn dog!”

Spain gave a smile so bright, it could probably light up Madrid. “Yes! Thanks Roma!”

He lifted the puppy to his face. “I’ll name him…Dog.”

Romano facepalmed.


	17. Chapter 17

**17- Spooning**

Spain’s eyes opened. It was still dark, and a scream echoed in his head.

Another nightmare.

He stared at the darkness of the room for a while, then looked at the clock. 6:30. Well, not so early anymore. He pushed himself up, and soft hands pulled him back down on the bed.

“Whut?” muttered Romano behind him, with his face against the back of Spain’s neck.

“Sorry, woke you up?” asked Spain.

“Your heart did.”

“Uh?”

Romano pressed his hand against Spain’s chest, over his heart.

“I felt it racing. What were you dreaming about?”

Spain thought of screams and fire. Thought of his own voice shouting about heretics, his words echoing over all those screams of pain. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the fire.

“My last world cup match,” he said.

Romano shifted behind him to reach up to his face and slap him.

“You idiot. Go back to sleep already.”

Spain chuckled, and grabbed Romano’s hand to kiss every one of his fingers, and not think of fire or screams, but only of the heart beating behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

**18- Doing Something Together**

Spain loved his garden, and his tomatoes, and toiling around in the dirt under the scorching sun.

Romano would rather not dirty his expensive Italian suits, to be honest; so he just looked on from as far as he could.

“When you were little, you cared for my tomatoes when I left,” said Spain, looking lovingly at his plants.

“Ugh, don’t even remind me. My nails were always so dirty and it was your fault, jerk. If you had just let the servants care for them-“

“I don’t like that,” said Spain, closing any conversation about that theme. As always.

Romano gritted his teeth. He always knew the “I don’t want humans touching my plants” that lurked under Spain’s words, but he still thought it ridiculous. Spain was so laid back about everything except those damn plants of his. At first, he hadn’t even let Romano touch them. But when war called to him, someone had to do it.

He sighed, and walked up to him. Spain refused to look up at him, fiddling with his plants, crouching in the ground. Romano picked up the basket of tomatoes next to him. That got Spain’s attention.

“Since you’ll be here for a while, I’ll cook something.”

“For me?” asked Spain, smiling.

“No, for me. But in my great generosity, I’ll let you eat too,” he said and turned around.

Spain reached out to grab his wrist. “No, wait,” he said, softly. “Please stay. I like it when you’re here with me.”

“I’m not cleaning weeds, you know that?” said Romano, turning and holding on to Spain’s hand.

“I know…I know. But just stay here. With me.”


	19. Chapter 19

**19- In Formal Wear**

France had opened a new fancy club, and invited everyone in very personal ways. Which meant that he had sent a single invitation addressed to Spain and Romano. Invitation that had ended burning in the stove the minute Romano got his hands on it.

 “It’s Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Yes, three names. And Lovino Vargas. We must be on the list,” was Spain saying to the lady at the entrance. They didn’t have the invitation anymore, so either they were on the list, or France was going to have to come here and let them in. Who would have thought that they needed the damned invitation to get through the door. Romano took a long drag of his cigarette. He didn’t want to go to France’s silly show off party, but since Spain had already agreed, he decided to just make the best of it and dressed Spain in a beautiful italian tuxedo that accentuated his long figure. He had even considered getting him to a salon for a nice cut, but when he saw him pass a hand through his hair, he was glad he hadn’t.

“Ah~, come on. Francis invited us himself. I can’t believe we’re not on the list,” said Spain. The white gold cuffs on his wrists shining in the night lights of Paris.

“I’m sorry sir,” said the lady at the entrance, smiling apologetically at Spain. “But, well, maybe I could arrange something…”

“I’m gonna call Francis,” finally said Romano, not liking the way that woman was looking at Spain. He took out his cellphone.

“Call me? But I’m already here, mon cher!” said a voice behind him, and France wrapped his arms around him.

Romano screeched when he felt France’s breath tickling the shell of his ear.

“I was worried you weren’t coming. I wanted to have both of the Vargas brothers in my club,” he said. Romano considered putting off his cigarette on the hand that was slowly drifting towards his bum, when Spain appeared in front of him and grabbed France’s wrists to pull him off Romano.

“Francis, so good to see you,” he said with a dangerous smile and murder in his eyes. France got the message and quickly stepped away.

Romano grinned. This party was off to an interesting start.


	20. Chapter 20

**20- Dancing**

After his bout with tarantela, Romano had never tried to dance again. Oh, he loved to see dance, but doing it himself? No, thank you.

Spain, on the other hand, had tried to learn every single dance he could. From his usual flamenco to that weird hiphop that Romano couldn’t understand.

 Now, he was trying to learn tango, at an old, tiny argentinian bar that offered classes as long as you drank something. That was alright with Romano, who sat in a dark corner drinking bad wine while watching Spain follow the lead of a small, elderly woman. After teaching him the basics, she paired him with a thin, nervous woman with hollow eyes who was also taking her first class.

They spent the next few minutes stepping in each other toes and trying not to fall. The woman changed the partners a couple times more, but Spain kept tripping on the feet of whoever he was paired with.

“This sucks,” said Romano when the woman finally let Spain take a break. Spain laughed and took a sip of Romano’s glass.

“It does,” he said. The flickering lights of the bar and the smoke from cigarettes made him seems older somehow.

“I meant this whole tango shit.”

“I like it.”

“You like any stupid thing that has to do with dancing.”

Spain called the waiter and ordered their best Sherry. When the waiter poured their glasses, Romano lifted an eyebrow. Their best was mediocre at most.

“I taught you tarantela,” said Spain, drinking with an annoying smile on his dumb face that had Romano smiling too.

“I still hate you for that,” replied Romano. He suddenly felt eyes on him and he looked to the other side of the bar where the old woman stared at them intently. Romano tried to ignore her, but she suddenly stood up and walked towards them with intent steps.

“You and you, come here,” she ordered. Romano noticed she lacked a bunch of teeth and her hands shook, but she still spoke with such command on her voice that Romano stood up and followed her.

“I-I don’t want to dance,” he said meekly. The woman glared at him and ordered them to hold each other. Romano followed Spain’s lead as he held him by the waist and the hand. She quickly explained the basic steps to Romano, who listened in a daze.

“Tango is about understanding the body of your partner. You,” she hit Spain in the leg with her walking stick. “Refuse to listen to anyone’s body.”

“What? I don’t-“

“Silence. Now, let’s start,” she put the other couples together, and started the music.

“B-but I don’t know how to-“ complained Romano, but they were already moving. “I hate you,” muttered Romano so that only Spain could hear him. He was wearing very expensive shoes and wasn’t in the mood to get them ruined by Spain’s old worn out boots.

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting this,” said Spain. They stepped forward. Romano put one foot after the other. Counting steps in the back of his head. At his waist, Spain’s firm hand guided him softly.

_1, 2, 3, 4…_

Romano could barely remember what the old woman had told him, but he followed Spain’s lead, knowing beforehand how he would move. He knew every muscle, every slight move of his hands.

Suddenly he realized nobody else in the bar was moving. Even the waiters looked attentively at them.

Romano felt his face heating, and knew everyone would see him turn red even in the dim, flickering light of the bar. He pushed Spain away and ran out.

He stopped a few blocks away, and sat down at an old bench to catch his breath. Spain caught up with him a few minutes later. He still had the bottle of Sherry and offered it to him.

“Thought you would need it,” he said with a smile. Romano felt tears building in his eyes.

“I hate your stupid dancing!” he yelled, and snatched the bottle from Spain’s hands. He took a long swallow from it.

“I loved it.”

“Jerk.”

“I had forgotten, how much our bodies know each other.”

Romano blushed again, and drank even more. He wanted to pull Spain against him and kiss him until their lips felt numb.

And he needed a lot of alcohol before he let himself do that.

Spain smiled. He understood.


	21. Chapter 21

**21- Cooking**

Romano made the sauce, because he didn’t allow any premade pasta sauces after Spain’s little stunt in the grocery store. He also made the pasta, because Italy was the true master of pasta, and if Spain wanted to say something against it he could; provided he wanted to sleep in the couch. And he also brought the wine, because he was  _‘Sick of weak Spanish wines’_.

That left Spain to sit at the kitchen table, arranging a plate of cold cuts and grinning like a dork.

It had been such a long time since Romano had wanted to cook for him.

He was ecstatic.


	22. Chapter 22

**22- In Battle**

Spain knew about the mafia, but he had never thought much of them. Sadly, considering his current situation in the back of a closed off alley and with five huge men  in black suits pointing guns at him.

“This is not about Spain itself, Mr. Carriedo. We hope you understand,” said a fat old man who reeked of cigars. He stood behind the men pointing guns at him, grinning with perverse curiosity. “This is strictly about South Italy. He has gotten out of hand lately, it’s terrible for business. Terrible.”

 Spain looked at the guns, and the way each of them was aiming at him. He could probably dodge the first shots, break the knee of the middle guy, punch the fat guy straight in the face and run away with only a few shots. He might not even go into shock by blood loss until he got out of Italy. Maybe. If only he could move. If only his feet weren’t completely frozen.

“Has he? Then I’d say it’s my fault. Raised him to be a rebel,” said Spain. The sight of the guns made his heart beat faster and faster. The last time he had been in front of so many guns, alone and unarmed had been…it had been during his own execution, of course. How could he forget about being executed during the civil war.

He grinned maniacally. No, he had never forgotten. No matter how much he wanted to.

“You are a funny man, Mr. Carriedo. We all wish our dear Lovino could be more understanding. Perhaps you could help us to…convince him to give us more freedom. Just a little bit more.”

“Heh, I can’t convince him to get out of bed, much less let you cabrones go around extorting his people.”

They shot him.  _He knew_. And yet, even as he saw the blood taint his clothes, he couldn’t really understand what had happened.

_Am I dead again? Death is so cold, and I’ll miss the sun. For how long this time?_  He wondered.

And then there were more shots and more men rushing into the alley. Everything around him started to blur as he fell down to the ground.

Everything went black for a moment, and then he heard Romano’s voice calling out to him.

“Wake up, you fucking idiot! Dammit jerk, I’m serious! Open your goddamn eyes! They just shot you in the leg! You can’t be dead from that! Hell, you can’t be dead at all!”

Spain opened his eyes and saw Romano’s crying face over him.

“¿Qué?” he asked, and everything started coming back to him. He had fallen into some kind of shock or something. He could feel the pain from his leg burning up.

“You just got shot in the leg! Why did you fall like that?! I thought…I thought…What happened to you?!” yelled Romano.

“I…don’t know…,” whispered Spain. He wished he had words to assure Romano that he was alright, just a little shaken up. But his mind had gone completely blank. He looked to the entrance of the alley, where he could see black silhouettes on the ground among a pool of blood, but Romano turned his head.

“Don’t look,” he whispered, cradling his head. “…Don’t look.”

_A/N: I have the headcanon that Spain was executed during the spanish civil war and it left him deeply traumatized (being attacked by your own people has that effect on nations) just like France who had his head chopped off during the French Revolution. But being immortal they come back, even when they would have welcomed death._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few days after the last drabble

**23- Arguing**

“Roma what ham did you buy?” asked Spain from the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” said Romano from his place in the couch, who already knew that he had bought turkey ham. He didn’t want to leave the safety of the couch though.

“Romano~”

“Argh! Alright!” Romano sat on the couch, looking at the kitchen. “I think you should stop eating so much meat. Especially serrano ham.”

Spain closed the refrigerator and held his crutches. “What?”

“Look, the doctor said your diet was basically alcohol and red meat. That’s not good for you. You should eat better, especially now that you’re healing.”

Romano felt stupid demanding that Spain fixed his diet, but the expression the doctor had on his face while Spain was out on painkillers (after Spain’s last encounter with the Sicilian mafia) had been enough to convince Romano that this was a battle he was going to fight.

“Roma I’m immortal! I’ve been eating meat and drinking wine for the last two thousand years!”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“And you shouldn’t eat pasta three times a day, but I don’t go around stopping you, am I?”

“What the fuck Spain, I’m much younger, I don’t have to worry about that!”

“Are you saying I’m old?!”

“Well if over two thousand years is not old then I don’t know what is.”

“Just because I don’t act like a brat like you do doesn’t mean I’m old!”

“The fuck are you calling me jerk?!”

“A brat!”

Romano gritted his teeth, and sat back down on the couch where Spain couldn’t see him cry. His words always hurt the most. Every word of praise made his heart soar, but every angry word cut straight through him.

“Roma? I’m sorry,” said Spain, leaning over the couch. He looked stupid with one of his crutches to his left while he tried to reach for Romano’s face.

“Go away!” mumbled Romano, looking down. Spain tangled his fingers on his hair.

“I’m really, really sorry. I’m just…being like this makes me so angry,” he said lifting one of his crutches.

“Angry?” asked Romano, kneeling up so he could grab Spain’s shirt. “And how do you think I felt?! When I saw you fall and I thought you were gone. How do you think I feel when I think that one day this… this body won’t resist? I’ve had to see you crawl back bleeding and every time I thought that was it. That this body wouldn’t be enough, and you would go back to the earth and the sky where I couldn’t reach you,” his voice broke, and he hugged Spain so that he wouldn’t see his crying face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The average annual consumption of serrano ham in Spain is almost 5 kilos per person! That’s a lot of ham!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after the last drabble

**24- Making Up Afterwards**

Spain held Romano against his chest until he stopped crying. He waited, and waited, rubbing his face against Romano’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Romano tensed. “I want to be strong. I want to be strong enough to protect you, and strong enough to tell you that everything will be alright. But…”

But time went on, and his people lived and died, like they had for so long. And human life lasted little more than a heartbeat in the span of the history of the world.

For them, who lived forever and yet relied on all those heartbeats for their existence, life was just as fragile.

“All I can do,” said Spain against Romano’s hair. “Is tell you that I love you. That I always will. And that if I must return to the sky and the earth, I will still love you; and every leaf and grain of sand will yearn for you.”


	25. Chapter 25

**25- Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes**

Romano looked up from his phone to glare at Spain in front of him.

“Stop staring at me already.”

Spain smiled. “But I love looking at your eyes.”

“They’re just brown, I don’t understand what you see in them,” said Romano, looking back at his phone.  _No Veneziano, you can’t have a dog. Give it to potato bastard if you want it so bad,_ he texted his brother.

“You.”

“What?!”

“I see you. I see that your eyes haven’t changed in all these years.”

“W-whatever,” said Romano. But when he looked into Spain’s eyes, he realized that he could see the sea. A green sea, thousands of years ago.


	26. Chapter 26

**26- Getting Married**

Romano opened his door, and found his house full of pasta dishes. A plate with lasagna sat next to his flower vase, another with spaghetti on the living room. Several plates of fusilli with different sauces laid here and there on top of tables and chairs.

“Veneciano, what the hell is all of this?” he called. Spain ran down the stairs, wearing an apron with little happy tomatoes printed on it.

“Roma! I talked with France!” he said, with a face so happy, Romano smiled awkwardly.

“Y-yeah? And he told you to come to my house and cook all this pasta?”

“Yes! I mean, no,  _of course he didn’t tell me to come cook you all this pasta_. But he made me realize what you said to me!” said Spain, approaching him with a maniac smile.

“…And what did I say?” asked Romano, backing against the door.

“ _Three meals and a nap with pasta every day._  You said that! I can cook you all the pasta you want! Every day! And you can take all the naps you want!” said Spain. He knelt and took something out of his back pocket. “So please, marry me Roma,” he said, showing Romano an engagement ring.

Romano’s heart jumped, and he felt something wet on his cheeks. “I-Idiot!” he said, and wiped the tears off his eyes.

“So…that’s a yes?” asked Spain, his fingers trembling as he held Romano’s hand.

“Of course it’s a yes! Dammit, do I always have to spell it to you?!” his voice broke. He could barely see anything through the tears of happiness.


	27. Chapter 27

**27- On One Of Their Birthdays**

Romano found Spain lying on the couch, drunk off his ass at noon. He growled and threw a glass of water on his face. Spain screamed and lurched upward.

“Wake up dammit! Do you have to do this on my birthday every fucking year?” yelled Romano. Spain wiped at his eyes and swayed.

“Whut? Roma? ¿Qué hashesh ‘quí? (What shou doing ‘ere?)”

“I came to get you because I’m sick of you always hiding away and getting drunk on my birthday.”

Spain seemed to piece everything together in his head. “It’sh your birthday!” he said, and started crying.

“Stop! Stop! Why are you doing this dammit?!”

Spain wiped away his tears, but he seemed unable to stop crying

“Becash you…you left me! Today!”

Romano held Spain’s face, and kissed his tear streaked cheek

“Jerk,” whispered Romano. “Don’t say I left you when I’m here. Don’t say I left when I had to be free to choose you on my own.”


	28. Chapter 28

**28- Doing Something Ridiculous**

Spain had framed their stupid picture from his last April’s Fools prank.

“I hate you,” said Romano, sneaking a peek up Spain’s mini skirt when he tried to hand up the picture on the wall.

Spain snickered and almost fell off the stool he was on. “Stop that Roma~,” he said, snickering and swaying. He was almost drunk by now, but then, they’d started drinking fairly early. They need to, if they were going through with this. Romano straightened the skirt of his catholic schoolgirl costume. How had Spain managed to drag him into this year’s prank? Somehow, he always managed to get Romano to agree on these stupid things.

“Stop what bastard? And watch out, you’re going to fall.”

“It’s just,” Spain giggled. “You always say ‘I hate you’ the same way you say I love you, hahaha!”

Romano pushed him off the stool.


	29. Chapter 29

**29- Doing Something Sweet**

Romano ran into Spain after work on the streets of Naples.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were going out with France and Prussia,” said Romano. Spain just smiled.

“I was. But then I remembered that today was the opening of this little cake place,” said Spain, pointing to the small cake store behind him, all painted in pastel pink. “And I thought that was excuse enough to come and get my Roma some cake,” he said, throwing an arm around Romano’s shoulders. “Not that I really need an excuse, but when I get one,” he pecked at Romano’s neck. “I take it.”


	30. Chapter 30

**30- Doing Something Hot**

Spain came barging into Romano’s hotel room.

“Hey Roma! Look what France gave me!” he yelled. Romano facepalmed and turned off the tv.

“What is it now idiot? And I’ve told you not to barge in like that! Did Feliciano gave you the key again?”

“Yeah, I saw him in the lobby when France was giving us the gifts,” said Spain, taking off his pants.

“W-wait what are you-?”

“Look!” he pointed at the bright red panties he wore with a green bow on them.

“EEEHHH?!”

“And look at the back!” he turned around and shook his ass. The panties had “Ripe Tomato” printed on the back.

“Oh, my god…”

“I know right?! They’re so awesome! I couldn’t wait to show them to you!”

“How did I ever fall in love with you? How?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you don’t think Spain in bright red tomato panties is hot I don’t know what to tell you mate.


End file.
